Bad Babysitter
by FanSlewFantasy
Summary: Wow. Umm... AU Alfred's mum leaves him at home one night with a 'babysitter', who wants to play a little game. Crazily M. This fic needs about five Ms. Seriously. HARD. If you do not like yaoi or barefaced America-cest, give this fic a miss. FWInside


**~BAD BABYSITTER~**  
>A Hetalia Axis Powers Fanfiction*Presented by FanSlewFantasy 2011<br>_AmericaxCanda _***R21*  
>~INCEST~DIRTY TALK~SPANKING~BROTHER FETISH~CUM PLAY~<br>…**

_Every time I think I have reached the absolute pit bottom of dirty whorey unadulterated smut, some perverted bastard throws me a shovel. I am not kidding. After reading this, you will probably want a shower. I genuinely do not think anything I could write will ever be as smutty as this… and I honestly have no intention of trying to prove myself wrong. _

_This is it. The ultimate porn-fic. Don't say I did not warn you._

_Brave men only, beyond this point._

…

"What?" I stared at my mother slightly loose jawed as she rustled around in the papers and empty McDonlad's wrappers littering the coffee table.

"You heard me, Alfred. You aren't leaving this house until this mess is clean. End of."

"You're grounding me?" I let my xbox controller slip out of my hand and thunk to the floor in front of me. On –screen me was blindsided by a missile, but I was much to distressed to care.

"Yes. I am." Mom found her keys and stood up, hands on her hips. She regarded the lounge room with a critical, motherly eye. The drawn curtains, the scatter of pizza boxes and hoodies and DVDs… I don't doubt the fragile, complex perfume of molding big mac escaped her flared nostrils either. Which is a shame, because I really did think that that burger could go at least another week before the funk required me to trek to the dumpster by the garage.

I kicked the brown bag containing the offending foodstuff under the sofa surreptitiously. She shook her head and sighed.

"Well, I'm going to catch my flight now. And don't think that just because I'm gone for the weekend you can slither off to the den of some one or other of your friends. I've specifically asked Matt to keep an eye on you. And don't try to bribe him this time either!"

She clearly had not forgotten the time my twin brother and I struck a deal relating to desert rations for two months. As it turns out , Matt has an allergy to artificially coloured sprinkles. Who knew?

"But mom I was supposed to be going to Gilbert's tonight we-"

She held up her hand to silence me.

"No. Alfred. Stop." Swooping down she planted a crisp motherly kiss on my crown. I scowled and pulled away. Who still kissed a seventeen year old son? Really?

"I love you. Be good."

"You are so mean."

"Behave for Matthew."

"You say that like he's my baby-sitter."

"He is your baby sitter. Now if you don't mind, I'm going." with that, she clattered out the door, leaving me alone in my squalor with nothing for company besides a "you loose" game window and that lecherous old burger stench that really did nothing to help my flat unimpressment with life in general.

…

Matthew didn't get out of bed until one pm, and when he came downstairs, yawning luxuriously, I gave him a look I hoped conveyed my _exact_ feelings about having him babysit me without actually having to open my mouth.

"Morning Alfie." He missed it, obviously, because he sent me a small smile and wandered straight through the room to the window, yanking open the curtains.

The flood of light burnt my eyes, my dim den had been flooded with the horror of sunshine, and in the daytime the grim piles of trash and the low glow of a laptop and widescreen television were no-where near as cosy and pleasant.

"Ah! Natural light! It burns!" I covered my face with my arms and he clicked his tongue.

"Don't be so dramatic." Stepping over an empty two litre bottle of doctor pepper, he edged around the coffee table and began plucking fast food wrappers from pot plants and magazine piles.

"You shouldn't eat so much crap, its no wonder you're getting so chubby."

"I'm not chubby!" I whined, still peeking between my arms. "Your mother is chubby!"

He gave me a look, the one I called the 'Matthew thinks he's better than me but doesn't think I know it' look, but did not retort.

"What's that smell?" he asked instead. "Smells like…" his face screwed up. "Rotten big macs?"

"Hey shut up!" I nudged my foot further under the sofa, but the bag was so well back I couldn't fine it to push it any more. "thats disgusting, I am so not even that gross."

"Uh huh. Okay." Standing up, bearing an armful of paper rubbish, matt did that stupid head rolly hair flick thing he does (that one where he just tosses it all and it falls perfectly across his cheek) and smiled. "Well, whatever. I'm making some pancakes… will you have some?"

"Don't think you can win me over with pancakes!" I called at his back as he lilted away. "They shouldn't be called pancakes, they should be called blackmail cakes! Or persuasion cakes! I won't be taken in by your trickery." I thought for a moment. He paused by the door and cast a look back over his shoulder, eyebrow ached.

Okay, he was on to me.

"Okay fine," sighing, I decided, settling back down and selecting 'restart' on my game menu. "I will have nutella on my pancakes. And make them big thin ones. With sugar in."

"Fatass."

Light on his feet. He made little noise as he left the room and disappeared into the kitchen.

…

For twins, matt and I had little in common.

He had his French club, and his gymnastics, and his volunteer job at the animal shelter.

I had a kickass high score on robot unicorn attack and my half filled out Career app for McDonald's.

Despite this, I guess you could say we are kind of close. It comes from sharing a room I think, even though my side is decorated awesomely with StarWars posters and playboy pin ups and his looks like a duckling yellow stuffed toy filled centre spread for house and garden magazine. When you're living with a guy twenty-four seven, seeing his dirty laundry, listening to him have dream sex with some anonymous lover, and sitting up all night because he's spewing noisily into a bright red food poisoning bucket, you have to be pretty tight.

Especially when you somehow _catch_ his food poisoning, (wtf, right?) and he holds your hair while _you're_ chatting on the porcelain phone.

That being said, I didn't appreciate the fact that he was now my babysitter. Which implied he had authority over me, and over the things I do.

Which is bullshit. Because NO-ONE has authority over Alfred F. Jones and the things he does except for Alfred F. Jones and the President of the United States of America. Period.

The concept of Matty, in his cute little glasses and vintage clothing, telling me what to do was comparable to a kitten telling a lion how he should roar. If the kitten had a filthy mouth and a bit of a 'delusions of superiority' streak. Which of course it would if it was about to go out and tell a lion what shit was what.

All that aside, the guy knew how to make kick ass pancakes. We sat at the kitchen table in silence, me shovelling nine or so in my mouth at once, him nursing a neat stack drizzled with his favoured twelve dollar maple syrup from the fancy delicatessen down the street, and reflected on the evening ahead. I could picture his plans now. Sit in the bedroom until nine pm working his way through a novel of unholy length, come down for hot chocolate, finish reading and then at around ten pm turn in for an early night. Boring as a pilgrim's pornography, and certainly very convenient for me, who had decided I would simply ditch the house around then and go to gilberts after all. No-one needs to know.

"What are your plans this evening, Alfie?" Matt's soft voice jolts me from my cunning plottage and I am aware that he has just forked four more pancakes off of his plate and onto my own. He licked his fingers to get rid of the syrup and pushed his glasses up neatly. "Mum isn't home, so I thought we could do something special."

Crap. Plan in jeopardy. Act careless and GO.

"Oh, I dunno. I thought I would sit and clock fable three again."

A soft frown creased his brow "you didn't want to spend time with me then?"

I shrugged and forked a lump of pancake in my mouth. "whelp," I spoke through my mouthful. "ith you haf planth I don't want to ruin them… tho itth okay. Im fine to play my gameth." I swallowed and his expression of distaste almost made me laugh.

"Alfred that was disgusting."

"What are you, mom?"

"No, I'm your babysitter." He sat back and arranged his fork neatly on his plate. I huffed at the reminder and a small smirk tugged the edges of his lips. "And don't think I'm going to make myself scarce this evening so you can gallivant off and do whatever you please. Tonight, I'm sticking to you like shit to a blanket." He batted an eye at the metaphor. "Uh… sorry, that was a bad example. But you know what I mean." His fingers laced and he rested his chin perkily on his hands. "Now I'm sure that there are some fun things we can do this evening together to pass the time. I'm open to suggestions." A flutter of his pretty long lashes signalled I was allowed my input, a grumpy flush stained my cheeks and crept up my neck.

"You're a dick, you know that?"

"If I wasn't a dick I would be a lousy brother." He pressed his lips together and smiled at me sleekly. "So anyway, think about it. And remember, I'm open to any suggestion you may have." He stood and brushed his hand through my hair affectionately as he did so. "_Anything._"

I remained in the kitchen when he left, frowning sulkily at my pancakes and thinking that life just wanted to watch me suffer. Because it was a bitch like that.

…

"I don't know!" I complained to Gilbert, attention mainly focused on my intense game of angry birds. "My moms a bitch."

"Yah…" his voice was deeper over the phone than in real life. "That's pretty damn unawesome."

"And what's even worse is that she put Matty in charge of me. MATTY. Of all people."

A low whistle noise. I lost my game and clicked replay.

"Man, that is bad."

"I know."

"So what are you gunna do?"

Ah. Now that. That was something I hadn't actually thought much on yet. I shrugged, though Gil couldn't see it, and rolled over on the sofa so I was on my stomach.

"I dunno. He said we should so something together, and that he was open to any suggestions. But I dunno… we don't really have enough in common to do anything together, you know?"

"Mmm… can you imagine him playing Halo?"

I thought of my brother, sat rigidly up with his bottom lip thrust out and his kindly brows pulled together in indignity as some other player teabagged his virtual corpse

'_You motherfucking son of a bitch!_'

"… yeah, I can. He'd have a sulk about it, I think."

"How about monopoly?"

"Nooo… he's to smart, he will kick my ass." I scratched my head, accidently flicking my cowlick, and rested my chin in my palm. Where Matthew was at the moment, I didn't have a clue. Maybe he was in the shower. Or dressing his soft toys in stupid clothes.

"Maybe I should get him to cook me some bacon like a bitch. He did say _anything_."

"Anything?" Gilbert asked. "As in anything anything or _anything_ anything?"

I frowned, unable to make sense of that. "He said… anything."

"Yes but what kind of anything? What exactly did he say?"

"I can't remember that! Um… he's open to any suggestion I may have. _Anything_. But I dunno… I haven't got a clue what we should do because-"

"Alfred." A soft touch on my shoulder jolted me and I dropped the phone. Matt had this habit of popping up out of nowhere, as if he had been standing right next to you the whole time, actually, but invisible.

"Oh, Matt, hi." I looked up at him over the top of my glasses. His tank top, his daisy duke cuttoffs. He looked like a blonde summer beach bum, not a dowdy teenage boy in November.

"Got any idea what you wanna do tonight?" he tapped my shoulder so I sat up and settled on the arm on the sofa. "Remember, any suggestion." The private smile he gave me was… interesting. Unfamiliar. I narrowed my eyes and nodded, to convey that I understood.

He licked his lips and crossed his legs smoothly. They were very beautiful legs, I will give him that. Unshaved, but with hair so fine and pale one doesn't notice. I touched one playfully, and rubbed the hair just to tease.

"Someone needs to shave." I told him, and he blinked at me in shock.

"Excuse me?"

"Hairy legs… like a monkeys." I made a monkey noise to embellish my point and he snorted.

"You want me to shave my legs?"

I shrugged and picked the phone up off the floor. "Still there Gil?"

"Yeah."

Matthew stood easily and sauntered away with unusual purpose in his steps. I paid no attention, listening to Gilbert bitch about dropping the phone like that, and his own brother's ceaseless neurotic behaviours.

…

"Hey, Matt." I stretched, giving myself a brief 'under the pit' sniff and deciding that later tonight a shower would definitely be in order. "Where you at?"

No reply. I sat up properly, pausing my game and inspecting the room for any sign of my brother. None. The clock on the wall said five thirty. Although I could have sworn it was only three.

"Matt where are you?" I stood, letting the controller slip off my lap, and waded through a few empty burger king cups to the staircase. "You up there?"

"Yah, I'm in the bathroom." His voice echoed back. "Can you fetch me a towel from the linen closet?"

"Are there none up there?"

"Um… no."

I rolled my eyes and mounted the stairs.

Mom kept all the linen in the closet next to our bedroom. Clean towels and sheets (Matt was in charge of laundry… mom paid him a pretty handful of cash money for it too) neatly folded and smelling faintly of lavender and organised in weekly stacks. I opened the closet, grabbed a towel at random, and clomped heavily down the hall to the bathroom at the far end. The door was slightly ajar.

"Ah, thanks." Matty looked up from what he was doing when I arrived, that was standing in front of the bathroom mirror plucking his eyebrows, and smiled. I froze where I stood, eyebrows disappearing into my bangs and trying to make their way around to the back of my head.

"Uh… your welcome?"

I hadn't seen Matt naked since we were twelve. And I gotta say… he changed more than I had ever assumed.

Still smiling, he held out the hand not holding the tweezers to accept the towel I held limply by my side and made a come hither gesture with a curled finger. His arms were slender and pretty, one wrist bearing the ID bracelet I had gotten him for his sixteenth birthday, and they matched his endless, now astonishingly smooth legs perfectly. These things, of course, I already know about, but they seemed quite a lot more noticeable when he was bare as the day he was born as opposed to wearing boxers and a t-shirt. Because when he was nude, it was a lot easier to see the structure of his body, the fine ribbons of muscle that held his limbs together, and the thin pads of fat that swelled in alien places I really didn't think any man should. Ever.

No wonder he always wore baggy shirts.

Matt's waist was _tiny_. Not anorexic tiny, just more sort of I-could-circle-that-with-my-hands-if-he-sucked-in tiny, and curved in the way id only ever seen on female pornstars. Must be all that gym and rabbit food he ate… his belly button glittered with a piercing I hadn't known about, and in comparison to his tummy his hips and shoulders were perfectly balanced in a hourglass figure that frankly shocked me.

"Dude…" was all I managed. "Are you eating?"

"Huh?" he looked down at his stomach and swung a hip cutely. "Yah, of course. Why?"

"You look like a fucking runway model. Don't stand on a drain whatever you do, or you might just fall in."

He pulled a face.

"I'm actually _overweight_ for my height according to my doctor. You just aren't used to seeing someone smaller than you in all your fat glory."

"I'm not fat!" I told him, throwing the towel over his head. A high pitched giggle, he threw it off and pushed me backward playfully. I caught his wrists and screwed up my nose.

"It's all muscle."

"Underneath a layer of fat." He twisted his wrist free and darted his hand to my hip, where there was indeed a small love handle flowing over the waistband of my jeans. I had been under the impression no-one knew about that. I had been sadly mistaken.

His grip tickled, and he jiggled it firmly only to get me to squeal. Which was a totally undignified noise and not-at all likely to go without payback.

"Chubs." He snickered. I narrowed my eyes at him and released my one hand on his wrist so I could grab his neck instead, where I knew he was ticklish.

"Take it back." I whispered, pressing my nose against his. He hunched his shoulders and bit his lip to keep in the laughter.

"Never."

I squeezed a little and wiggled my fingers along his hairline at the back of his neck. A soft shriek, he squirmed away but I caught his shoulder and wrapped an arm around his waist to tickle him properly. His skin was still damp from his shower, though his hair was dry and heavy with the scent of passionfruit shampoo.

"Ah-Alfred!"

"Take it back!" I told him, not relenting no matter how hard he struggled. "Say I'm not fat."

"Okay!" he gasped; I smirked, wondering if I could perhaps get something better than that.

"No, say it. Say Alfred is not fat."

"A-Alfred is n-ot FATTT!"

"Now say 'Alfred is the best thing ever. And he's waaaay superior to Madeline saint me'."

"What?"

"Say it!" I attacked his ribs and he positively _squealed _for mercy.

"Alright! Alright! !" he ran it all together on one weak breath and I finally ceased, letting him collapse against me and whine for air.

"Fucker." He managed, after about a minute of panting, he raised his head and wiped his watering eyes. his pink cheeks were pretty, his soft blonde hair totally disarranged. I stuck out my tongue and he pulled a face, picking up the towel and wrapping it around his waist.

"Yah, I know. So hey, I wanted to talk to you about tonight."

"I'm listening." He opened the bathroom cabinet and removed what looked like a tub of body butter. What a poofter.

"Well… it's just that Gilbert and I had been planning this movie night for like, a month, and I really, _really _want to go. I was hoping maybe we could-"

"No deal." He answered flatly, applying lashings of body butter to his arms and legs and rummaging around for yet more beautification unguents-slash-lathers-slash-poultices. Sometimes, after a shower, Matty came downstairs smelling like a walking body shop. I whined and folded my arms across my chest. Usually, he would be totally cool with this. Matt and I had an agreement, after all. He lets me get away with murder, I _don't_ tell mum about the gay porn he has under his mattress.

"Oh come on! You haven't even heard my deal!"

"You have nothing I want to make a deal over."

"How would you know?"

"Because I do. I am not letting you go to Gilbert's tonight. No more talking about it."

"But Matt!"

"Do not 'but Matt' me!" he slammed the cabinet shut, tore open a pore strip, and tacked it swiftly on his nose. The effect was, when he turned to face me, rather like being accosted by a drab middle aged woman in the middle of her weekly 'lets see if we can put off looking forty for another few days' session. It wasn't often I pissed my twin off, but I wondered, in that moment, if perhaps I had come close. "If you really think I'm willingly letting you gallivant off to your friends where you can get drunk and watch porn instead of staying home and spending time with me for _once in your life_, you are sorely mistaken." He glared at me, waiting for a response, but I had nothing. So he carried on.

"This is the first time in_ ages_ I have had a chance to spend time with you, and you would rather piss away your youth with whatsisaname. Well, maybe I'm going to be selfish this evening." He ripped the porestrip off, and I winced. He didn't seem to mind but I was quite convinced it would have hurt like a bitch. "Deal with it."

I stood there dumbly for about three minutes, enough time for him to moisturize his face, tie his hair back and choose the gayest t-shirt from the three hanging on the heated towel rack to dry. It was pale purple, and cut with a low v neck. I'd never seen it before; it looked suspiciously like the kind of thing that Francis kid in senior class would pick for him.

I don't trust that guy one bit.

"What?" he asked hotly, as if only just noticing I was still there. "Go downstairs. Order a fucking pizza for godssake."

I did as he told, robotic, frustrated, and a bit surprised. It's not like I wouldn't have cancelled my plans, if Matt had just said.

…

"pizza's here!" I called up the stairs. I had even cleaned up the lounge room a bit, throwing out that big mac while I was at it and even giving the room a bit of a squirt of glade to freshen it all up. The curtains were still closed, but I had the lights on low, so we could see what we were doing. My laptop was set up on the coffee table and hooked to the TV so we could watch a film. Things looked pretty cosy, actually.

Outside, it began to rain.

"Oh, you're still here." Matt appeared at the top of the stairs wearing a facial and underwear beneath his clingy lilac tee. Even behind the green sludge on his face, I could see he wasn't impressed. "I thought you would have pissed off by now."

"Um, no." I scratched my head awkwardly and looked up at him in the most apologetic way possible. "I cancelled with Gilbert. I think we should try have a good evening together after all." A small smile turned my lip. "Actually, I'd like if we did. So wash that crap off your face and come down okay?"

He still didn't look convinced.

"The pizza is BBQ chicken…"

"alright, alright. Wait a sec. I will come down." He gave me a shy smile. "Don't eat it all before I get there."

…

"Oh hey. Finally. It's getting cold."

I tipped my head back so I could see him; he squeezed his arms around my neck briefly and jumped over the back of the sofa.

"Sorry, the mask got in my hair, and took ages to get out."

"You managed I see." I noted the headful of pretty waves and curls he had teased, and the soft silken feel of them brushing against my cheek when his head rolled against my shoulder. "Looks nice."

"Thanks." He leaned forward and opened the pizza box. I had helped myself to two pieces already, "so. Have you thought about what you want to do tonight?" the smallest piece in the box was picked for his eating, and the box shut once more to keep the heat in. "remember, we can do _anything_ you feel like."

"Yah, you said that." I watched him nibble the end of his pizza, and scratched my head reflectively in an attempt to think of something. "How 'bout movies, sound okay to you?"

"Movies?" he rolled the pizza up in that way he did and popped it all in his mouth at once. "Really? What about some _games_. Surely you can think of some fin games we can play." He sucked his fingers and our eyes locked. The strangest feeling of discomfort settled in my chest. "Come on… use your imagination."

"Um…" I thought of Gilbert's comment earlier. "Monopoly?"

"…monopoly?" he seemed just as confused as I. "Are you serious?"

"Well, if you don't like monopoly there's always Ludo."

He blinked; I noticed for the first time that he was wearing his contacts. He usually only wore those on special occasions.

"Lu- no, Alfred I don't think you understand what I mean." His eyes lowered and he ruffled his fringe. "Watch my lips. Are you watching them?"

I nodded. They were very pink, and shaped like cupids bow. I remembered, although what that had to do with anything I don't know, he used strawberry milkshake flavoured lip balm. Well, he had since they stopped making the maple one.

"We should play a _game_. Something _fun_ and…_ exhilarating._ Are you following me?"

"…wana go multiplayer on amnesia? Wait, actually, I'm not sure you can do th-"

"Alfred you are an idiot." He sighed, waving his hand dismissively. "Just put a movie on, for god's sake, and be done with it."

He almost seemed… put out. I scrunched up my face, because that wasn't cool. If he wanted to play a game with me then sure. I wasn't heartless.

"Well, no. if you want to play a game then let's play a game. What kind of a game do you have in mind? You tell me, I haven't got a clue."

He sulked and shrugged his shoulders.

"Matty… come on. Lets have a nice brothers evening together. Lets play something we can both enjoy." I poked his cheek and he puffed it up in irritation. After about a minute of jabbing he broke and sighed dramatically.

"Okay, fine, fine. I know a game we can start with."

"Hit me."

"It's called… chicken. Heard of it?"

"The one with the cars?" we didn't have any cars. And if we did, Matty was the only one who had a licence.

"Mm… no. same idea though. The aim of the game is not to yield to the other player. So essentially, we take turns trying to outdo the other by not giving in or turning 'chicken' before the other."

"…okay. I follow you."

A small smile lit his face exceptionally prettily.

"Right. So. You can start. You put your hand on my ankle," he adjusted his body so he was sitting legs stretched before him on the sofa, back resting on the arm, "and run it up my leg until I say 'chicken' or you get uncomfortable and stop. The chicken looses, and has to do a dare. After that, we switch. I get a turn touching your leg, and so on so forth. Okay?"

I nodded, the game seemed familiar. I think I remembered playing it once at Ivan's house. If I remember correctly, I had been keen for a go at his sisters but had to stop a little early cause I got it up.

Curse biology and such.

"Alright then." He spread his legs a little; I got a pretty decent eyeful of his cute mint striped cotton shorties before shifting my gaze to his face. His confident smirk fired up the competitive blood in my veins. I narrowed my eyes.

"You're going down Matty."

"Later."

"Huh?" I clasped my hand around his ankle, not really listening to what he was saying. "I missed that."

"mm. Never mind. Just go on, have your turn." His eyes closed calmly and a sedate tilt of the lips threw me a little off, but I shook myself and stroked the top of his foot as softly as I could. I noticed again, his legs were smooth.

"You shaved." I commented, a little bemused as to why. He snuffled and wiggled in his position.

"Hurry up and touch me Alfie."

Alright then, all or nothing.

It was a little bit unnerving, running my fingers over the smooth skin on Matt's shin and up the inside of his pale thighs. I did it slowly, inching further and further up without much worry or care at all to start with, small competitive spark lighting a thrilling inferno inside of me. It was kind of exhilarating.

By the time I got halfway up his thigh though, and realised it was _hot_ there, I began to get a little twitchy. His expression didn't seem to be changing at all. He hadn't made a sound or moved an inch. Sensing my hesitation, he cracked his eyes open and smirked, lavender swimming, lashes cast low in a 'whatchagunnadoaboutit, bud?' look. The need to win leapt up in me; I swallowed and moved a whole two inches up in less than a second, until my fingers were nudging the hem of his shorties leghole.

The fabric was soft and light against my fingertips, beneath my hand I could feel every dip and hollow where his inner thigh met his crotch. The skin was hot and smooth, and smelled richly of strawberries and maple. Beneath my middle finger, a stronger chord of bone maybe muscle maybe tendon, framed either side with a low concave, twitched. I jumped in shock and heartbeat racing, yanked my hand away.

His gaze flicked to me and his grin widened.

"Chicken."

"Shut up!" I told him, convinced my face was going to burst into flames. What was that about? It was just his leg. Honestly Alfred, you're pathetic. Spooked for one second by a twitching muscle and you totally forfeit your game and your dignity.

Disgraceful. "You gave me a fright!"

"Aw… did big scawy babysitter give awfie walfie a fwight?"

"Shut up!" I snapped, showing my glasses up my nose to hide my face. "it's my turn now. Then we will see whose chicken."

He raised his finger and clicked his tongue.

"Ah-ah-ah… you have to do your dare first."

I groaned.

"Can't I do it later? Whoever looses this round has to do two dares? Something like that?"

"Nope, you do the dare now." The sofa creaked beneath him as he sat up and edged forward. I was a little more than shocked when he straddled my lap and wrapped his arms loosely around my neck. "And your dare is… kiss me."

"What?"

"Kiss me. On the lips, you know?"

I couldn't make sense of the proposition at first. It seemed awfully easy, for a dare. I rolled my eyes and pecked his lips briefly. He giggled and shook his head, as if my kiss had been laughable.

"What now?"

"Nothing, nothing. It's your turn." He didn't shift from my lap, his hands instead coming to rest on my stomach. "Now I'm going to touch you. The first to say stop is chicken."

I nodded, to show I understood.

This was so on.

…

"Ah! Okay, stop stop stop!"

Five rounds in, and I had lost every single one.

Matt giggled delightedly, and shuffled around in my lap, but neglected to remove his hands from my fly. I huffed and pulled them off, setting my jaw and deciding that that was it, no more mister nice guy.

Matt was loosing the next round. Fullstop.

"Wow, Alfred. Not very good at this game are you?"

"Shut up." My hands clapped firmly on his thighs, I dragged them around and wasted no time bringing them up the inside stretch I had touched numerous times already this evening, and gave them a soft rub. "No way am I losing this round."

"So put your money where your mouth is. I _dare _you." he poked out his tongue and pressed his forehead against my own. I hated to admit it, but he had been right. This game was exhilarating. Extremely so. I wondered if I could convince my mates to play with. If I got really good, I could challenge them in regards to decisions and such things. I may never have to do what someone else says again!

I took a deep breath, calmed my body as best I could, and began rubbing explorative circles over the fabric of Matt's underwear. The flesh beneath was soft and yielding, I tried not to focus on what I was touching, but on what I hoped to accomplish by touching it. When you got used to it, it wasn't actually that bad. Soft, the cotton of his shorts smooth, the warmth of his body companionable.

He however, seemed all very bored with the whole thing.

"I'm not chickening…" he provoked me, lips brushing the shell of my ear as he spoke. "And you call your self daring."

I pressed my lips together in frustration and on an impulse I darted my hand up his stomach and yanked the band of his underwear down. That right there was the border for how far I had been willing to go before, and I 'ha'ed in triumph to have finally surpassed it.

"How do you like that?" I asked him in a brutal whisper, hand slipping down his tummy and into his shorts. It seemed to have taken him by surprise, because he squeaked, back arching strongly. My fingers prodded around until they found the base of his cock, the hair there was soft and pleasant to the touch.

"Ah, Alfred!" fingernails dug into my shoulder and I was pretty sure I had just secured myself a win. Flooded with the winning feel I gave a brief stroke, and he gasped, curling against me.

"Feeling chicken Matthew?" I asked him, laughter twisting in my voice. "If you want me to stop just say mmph-!"

I was forcibly denied the finish of that sentence by a pair of lips sealing against my own, tongue sliding across the surprised seem and slipping through into my mouth.

I spluttered, short of breath, and yanked my face backward.

"What the fuck man?" I managed, pulling my hand from his pants and wiping my mouth with the back of my sleeve. "That dare has been done! Now you lost, you have to do a dare now too." I pushed him sideways and with an indignant squeaking noise he scrambled into a sitting position beside me. I jammed my hand under the sofa looking for that hamburger…

Damn. I had thrown it out already.

"Ah fuck." I sat up straight and glanced around the room. "I was going to make you eat the big mac, but now I have to think of something else."

"Alfred F. Jones!"

I was startled by the firmness in his usually soft, passive voice.

"What?" I turned around to look at him, arm still crammed in the crack between sofa and floor. He was pink in the face, his shirt riding up over one hip. His hands were balled neatly on his waist.

"I did not chicken!"

I blinked a second, and reflected on what he had just said, before snorting in disbelief and sitting back up.

"You so did."

"When did I say stop?" his challenging face was unfamiliar to me. Jaw thrust forward, eyes narrowed to dangerous slivers of amethyst. I arched my eyebrows.

"You didn't have to say stop. I touched your dick. I win."

"Is that a rule? I don't remember ever saying that was a rule." A sharp hand got me up the side the head. My jaw dropped and I ogled at him. Matt had never _hit_ me before. Not even when we were twelve and broke his violin. Or when we were nine and I beat him to a pulp for accidently pulling the tape out of my Jurassic park VHS. Ever.

"Besides," he carried on, jerking me around and mounting my legs again roughly. "Even if I did say chicken, I would still win. Because I'm your babysitter and you have to do whatever the _fuck_ I demand you do. Got it?" thin fingers fisted in my hair and my mind spun. Seeing such a twisted, bitter expression on his face was making me dizzy. It wasn't an unattractive expression on his part, just unbelievable. I opened and closed my mouth a few times, no doubt pulling off a first class goldfish impression, and didn't even fight him when he jammed his lips against mine once more. His tongue slipped inside easily, and I gagged for a moment before realising it wasn't unpleasant, just strange. Wet and slick, prodding and prying and not at all how I had imagined my first proper kiss.

At all.

"Matty?" was all I managed when he yanked backward and tossed his hair aside. Within a split second his hand was gripping my jaw and he was doing it again, kissing me wildly, making soft humming noises and rubbing his body against my chest.

I sat there awkwardly, not at all sure what was happening, or how I should take it.

After about a minute of trying to snog a totally impassive man of stone, Matt eased away, panting heavily, and pressed his forehead to mine.

"Alfred…" it was a purr and a growl all wrapped up in one. Anyone with half a brain could tell it was a warning. "You do what your babysitter tells you goddamnit, or you will be in big shit later."

It was when he said this realisation hit me. And no offense to realisation, but it's a cunt.

"Matt!" I leapt off the sofa before he had time to holds me down, and he fell backward off my lap onto the coffee table. Moms decorative pot plant, a fancy affair of Azalea that was dead anyway, was knocked sideways and dirt spilled all over the carpet. He sneered up at me through a curtain of blonde hair, and I felt my cheeks flush, my heartbeat rise.

"What the fuck?" I spluttered, edging away from him as fast as possible. It didn't look like an easy time, struggling up off that table with a back that probably hurt like no-ones business. "What the shit fuck was that?"

"Don't move," he hissed, slouched slightly forward to rub the small of his back. "You stay right where you are."

"or what, you're going to punish me?" a tone of hysteria found its way into my voice, and I cracked a high that would have made any thirteen year old boy feel good about himself. "What the… what is this I don't even…"

Matt sucked a deep breath from his nose and straightened up.

"Alfred, I am your babysitter and I am in charge. And we are going to fuck."

"WHAT?" I tripped backward and collided messily with a tall potted palm in the corner. Either all the potted plants in the world are conspiring against me or I am one clumsy mother. Surely, surely I had misheard him. _Surely_. No way in hell had my quiet, shy, sweet natured brother just told me, nay demanded, we fuck.

Wait what?

My _brother_ just told me he wanted to fuck?

Well, now I felt a little sick and spirally, like I was going to faint. But no. Alfred F. Jones does NOT faint. Ever. Instead I gripped the trunk of the palm and shook my head, speechless.

Still wearing that off sneer, yet somehow not looking nearly as beastly and unattractive as I would have liked him to at that moment, he strode forward. In fact he could have passed for quite beautiful, if I wasn't scared shitless by the fact he seemed to want to get me naked and do the dirty. And _I just played with his cock_.

Well shit. Maybe that was a dumb thing to do.

It made sense now, I realised as I backed away from his slow, prowling approach. His earlier comments.

_I'm open to any suggestions you may have. Anything._

Anything meant sex, right? Did he think that I would actually want to have sex with him? Really? Holy shit! There is something very, VERY wrong with that. Why would I want… what the hell? He was my _brother!_

With that thought I jumped and threw myself through the door into the kitchen, forgetting, miserably, that from there there is no way out. Unless I want to leap out the window that is. Which I don't.

"Silly Alfred. Do you want me to catch you or something? Surely you can run away better than this." He smiled sweetly, back to the bright eyed cute faced brother I knew, as he dolled on the doorframe. Feeling about forty different levels of do not want, I held up my hand and backed away until my tailbone met with the edge of the table. The syrup covered pancake plates were still there, and clattered when I knocked it.

"Hey, M-Matty…" I tried to find words, but no clear thought could make it through the scream of alarm bells in my mind. "Matty are you sure you don't want to play monopoly? You can be the horse,"

"I'd rather be the rider…" his eyebrow quirked and a sleek, attractive smile made a wicked bubble of guilt and intrigue pool in my lower body. My cheeks couldn't decide if they wanted to flood red or drain chalk white. I jumped when he drew closer and _bam_, drew the cutlery drawer out so hard it clattered to the floor. Knives, forks, pasta strainers, and a fat wooden spoon screamed across the lino. With gymnasts grace he bent down and picked up the wooden spoon, before tossing his hair right back and sauntering forward until we are chest to chest. My breath was shallow and I wondered if I was going to cry.

_Please god don't let me cry._

"Alfred." He sighed heavily and toyed with the spoon casually. His little pout could have been cute. My fingers twitched and I winced when he said my name.

"Monopoly?" I offered in one final weak attempt at distraction. He shook his head ever so slightly, but did not make any other sign he heard.

"I really like you… you know that?"

My lips pressed together, my twitching finger turned into desperately trembling hands. I could smell him. His tart shampoo, his sweet creamy skin. The soft line of his shirt neck ran low, and his collar bone shimmered with faint filmy sweat. Freckles littered the tip of his nose. I had never noticed before.

Smiling shyly, he pecked my lips and I cast my hand back in shock, knocking a plate to the ground. His chest pressed to mine, I sucked in. a hand brushed my fringe off my face, lush, rich lips glimmered with the moistness of my own.

"Fuck me Alfred." Another kiss. I still didn't close my eyes. "Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me." He punctuated each request with a kiss. The wooden spoon hand slid up my side and the handle dug in under my arm pit.

"Are you crazy?" I croaked, shivering all over now. I was too terrified to be terrified by this point. He pressed his nose to mine, and made one of the softest, most deliciously erotic noises I've ever heard in my life.

"Alfred, if you don't fuck me I will spank you with this spoon."

It shouldn't have. It really, really shouldn't have but when he said that the entire fan of my shoulder blades and the back of my neck exploded in heat. His leg, endless and perfectly flawlessly smooth, hitched around my own. That spoon slid over the side of my chest and came to rest pointing under my chin. He tilted my head up and I gave in helplessly, eyes falling shut.. Breath was hard, but tasted sweet, like matt.

"What, is that agreement?" he turned it around, convex side of the utensil running up the side of my cheek. It wasn't smooth, exactly. And it wasn't rough either. It was… strange. Sensate. And tingly.

"No." my squeaking voice was not very convincing. I may as well have been telling him I was actually superman.

"Why?" he dropped it back down to my side and nuzzled the base of my throat. "I told you, spanking or fucking, your choice." His crotch ground against my hip lazily and I whined in frustration when his action heated my pelvic region deliciously.

"I don't want… we…"

"Shhh." His soft whisper silenced me, I met his eyes and my stomach leapt. They were endlessly beautiful, and unobscured by glasses. "it's okay Alfred. We can do this, okay? You and I, I don't mind, and I can see you want to." All this confidence was getting maddening. "I'll let you do anything to me Al. anything you want, no matter how wild, or filthy, I want you… I _need _you." His heat was overwhelming and melting and oh my god I was falling. My weakness was growing, and my crotch was feeling awfully warm and tingly.

"…anything?"

"Anything." I could feel his lips smiling against my earlobe, a shiver danced down my spine.

"Okay," I caved, hating myself but also wildly liberated by the concession. "We can do it. But bring the spoon with."

…

"My bed or yours?" he chirped, skipping upstairs and dragging me behind. His ass looked great in those shorts pants. Id never seen such a fantastic, taught ass before in my life. How had I not noticed it before? God, I wanted to touch it. To rub it and pull and push and stroke and kiss.

"I don't fucking care." I snapped, pushing him to our room, inside, and slamming the door behind us. He was already dragging us to mine, spoon tucked into his panty waistline. I tumbled on top of him and we sunk deeply into a kiss, open mouth and tongues and he tasted amazing, like toothpaste and sweetness and a flavour I can only call matt. Beautiful, wildly sexy matt. Naughty, filthy matt, who pushed me over, straddled my hips and whipped his spoon out in one smooth motion, bringing it to his lips.

"So what do you want?" he hummed, rocking his hips a little and licking his lips. "I can suck your cock or jack you off…"

Hearing those thick, glutinous words drip from perfect plush lips was possibly the most frantically hot thing I'd ever experienced. I swallowed and shook my head.

"Just keep doing this." Eyes screwed shut I ripped off my glasses and threw them carelessly on the floor. His light laughter was doing weird things to my motor control and I reached to yank him forward, missing entirely.

"Ah!" he smacked my hand with the spoon and it stung, a sharp neat pin of pain. "Don't touch. Do as babysitter says or I will have to punish you." He kissed the red mark on my hand, frozen in a claw in front of him, and nuzzled into my fingers.

"Punish me how?" I asked almost fearfully. The evil smile that I got in response curdled my blood and pumped my heart even faster.

"Don't ask questions. Now take off your shirt."

I hurried with inebriated hands to oblige, fumbling and struggling to pull it over my head. The neck hole caught on my ear and he yanked it off impatiently despite my pained whine. When I opened my eyes again, arms bare and above my head, he was inspecting the top carefully, running the hems between his fingers.

"When was the last time you washed this?" he gave it a sniff and my toes curled into the sheets. The way he held the cloth, like a comfort blanket, made my mouth water.

"… I dunno."

Smack. He issued a smart spooning to my slightly soft stomach and I squealed, noticing with an embarrassing lurch that the puppy fat below my tummy button jiggled and waved as the motion ebbed through it.

"Wrong answer. When did you last wash it?"

"I don't- a week ago? Two weeks maybe?" I waited, flinching for the next smack but it didn't come. Instead he cast the shirt over his shoulder and pulled his own over his head. The curves of his bare waist struck me again, no less odd the second time, and I wondered if he would hit me for trying to touch them. I balled my fists above my head rather than find out.

"Okay Alfie." He mused, brushing my bangs backward and flicking his tongue over his upper lip. "If you haven't decided what you want babysitter to do how about brother tells you what he wants you to do to him, eh?"

I nodded helplessly, lifting my hips a little off the bed and trying to nudge my constrained boner up into the warmth between his thighs.

"Right, well, first, I want you to suck me off. Do you think you can do that?"

My eyes widened in disbelief. Suck him off… like his cock… in my…

He didn't wait for me to answer, sliding a flat hand down my face, toying with my ear for a moment and touching in a way that was raw and heated in its eroticism. It flowed down my neck and collar bone, over my chest and flitting mere millimetres from my nipple. His voice lilted with amusement as he rubbed lower, fingertip running around and around the rim of my belly button.

"And when you have done that I want you to swallow. I want to ride you, you can either lie there and take it or you can fight and I will just tie you up and fuck you anyway… the choice is yours." His hand was removed, and with his middle finger he rubbed his bottom lip. The pair of them, hot and wet from kissing, reminded me of glossy plums. Sweet and tarty.

"You can come inside then eat it out of me when we are done."

His pleasant smile, he could well have been telling me about the kitten he had petted on his way to work.

Was this Matty? My Matty? The cute, bright eyed kid who wouldn't even speak in front of our mother for the first five years of his life and cried during the SpongeBob Squarepants movie? The Matty who had about a zillion stuffed polar bears on his bed and favoured cocoa over coffee because if he had caffeine he couldn't sleep?

Something Gilbert had told me once came to mind.

_It's the quiet ones who are the most kinky…_

What he said that confirmed this statement as perhaps the only one universal truth ever. At least in the case of matt.

"And I want you to call me 'brother' while we do it. Okay?"

I nodded dumbly, jaw falling a little loose in shock. He seemed pleased, bouncing excitedly on my stomach and tapping the spoon on my shoulder.

"Great! Wee, I knew playing games together would be fun." He swung so smoothly and wildly from sweet and bubbly to dirty and hot it was making me dizzy. "Hang on, I'll just take off my shorts."

He slid sideways off me, landing in the bed by my side with a soft 'umph' and wiggling out of his knickers. I propped myself up on my elbows, taking the opportunity to stare dumbly at him without being lashed. His expression was suitable for a child who had just been told every day was now Christmas, lip bitten in excitement, eyes glittering pretty violet. Even the pale splatter of freckles on his nose and cheeks seemed to quiver with anticipation. His underwear was removed with ease and waved neatly in my face.

They were lacier than I had first seen, mint green and striped with white, and they smelled pleasantly of his skin cream and another, slightly more obscene smell I recognised as precum. There was a small wet patch on the front. My heart leapt and I seized them, balling them in my fist and blushing madly. His bubbling chuckle was delicious; he kissed my nose cutely a few times, my lips too. The cascade of passionfruit scented blonde, thick and satiny and curling fell across my cheek and tickled all my senses.

"You're like a doll…" I murmured brainlessly. He smiled against my mouth and nuzzled at my neck.

"I'm your doll Alfie…"

I lost myself then for an undefined period of time in sexy pink lips and smouldering lavender eyes. Heavy kissing, bodies rutting and heated sloppy licking, we tumbled and I was pulled on top, his legs opened and I almost bit my tongue off when he shoved me southwards, hands insisting I immediately begin with the sucking of his cock.

"Mattie, what do I d-ah"

"Figure it out." He demanded, giving my hair a brief yank, my nose bumped his head and a small bead of silky fluid dribbled down over my upper lip. The hair on the back of my neck prickled when I thought about it, and tasted my brother's manhood for the first time. Salty… sort of oily. Like butter? But sickly sweet as well. My lips parted and his fingers raked the side of my hair, rubbing my ears in that way again, I dragged a deep panting breath and clasped my mouth on his cock. A stab of pride when he shivered beneath me, I rolled my shoulders and tried to concentrate solely on this, on what it was like, and on what instinct drove me to do.

"Mm, Alfred…" I listened closely to his words, they fired me up warmly and flicked just the right switch in my brain. "That's right Alfie, suck brothers dick…"

I slid my lips down the length as far as I could, not particularly far that is, and dragged them back up again as smoothly as possible. My hands attended to the part I couldn't reach, both of them, one ring of fingers pulling up to meet my lips and the other pulling down into the nest of neatly manicured pubic hair at the base of his dick. His glans was hot on my lips, and ran freely with wetness which mixed with my spit, dripping down his shaft and spattering the sheets beneath. My lips were slick, I couldn't lick them and the taste of him made me salivate until I was a slobby, drooling mess. My hands glistened and even my bangs joined the fun, getting a little damp at the tips.

"Al are you sucking or are you giving my junk a shower?" he moved a hand, finding the spoon in the sheets and pressing the end of it into the nape of my neck warningly. My throat constricted in shock around him, and I gagged. He swore and roughly I jerked away, spluttering for breath, wiping my mouth and leaving great moist streaks down my forearm.

"… Sorry." I told him, blinking the budding tears of embarrassment and pain from the rims of my eyes. "I choked."

His eyebrow cocked and I got a good look at him. Besides the slightly pink cheeks, he looked more like a superior I had to impress than the guy I had just been sucking off. There was a lingering taste in my mouth, and I couldn't stop salivating. It was too much to swallow; I covered my mouth and looked away from him humiliated.

"Brother's going to have to get better at that, isn't he?" Matty clapped the spoon lightly on my shoulder and knelt up. "Here, lie down, I will show you how it's done."

He pushed me backwards, wrenched my legs open, and yanked down my pants without a single shred of respect or ceremony. My nervously hard cock, it wasn't easy to get off when you knew you were kind of participating in big fat social taboo sex, twitched a little, but didn't demand his attentions, he looked at it for a minute and tilted his head to the side.

My gut twisted and I felt it soften a little.

"Hey," he reprimanded me and waved the spoon. I shied away, with an evil smirk he brought it down around my hip and side of my right buttock anyway, I whimpered and shook my head. "What's wrong with this then al? Never thought you would be the kind of guy who couldn't get it up."

"I can get it up!" my cheeks, even my nose, fluctuated with heat. "I can and you know I can you-ugh…" he waved his hand dismissively and gave me a swift pull, to stiffen the equipment, before regarding it curiously some more.

"What?" I snapped, after an embarrassing minute of study. "Not big enough for you, whore?" his eyebrows arched, and I immediately regretted it. Anger management… I needed it.

"It's fine." He told me firmly, a little hotly. "I was just wondering if you ever waxed or trimmed. It's like a fucking jungle down there."

Well that was unnecessary.

"Hey, chicks like a manly guy with manly junk! Fuck up."

"No chicks want to stick her face into the Amazon rainforest. God knows what might bite her nose." He combed his fingers through the hair in question (which wasn't actually anywhere near as bad as he made out. And it was pale blonde, so even if it was it didn't matter,) to find the base of my length and rub around.

"Not that you'd know of course." He tucked his hair behind his ear neatly before going down, I didn't even have a second to yell at him for poking fun at my prime condition V-card before he had me _right the fuck down his throat_ and his nose nestled deeply in gold curls.

"Fucking hell Matthew!" he swallowed a couple of times and it was like he was undulating his squeezing fingers all up and down every inch. The only thing I had ever felt that was close to this was when I heated my home made fleshlight and used it in the bathtub. With a deep sigh, he pulled all the way off, teeth barely skimming at all, and caught his tongue in my foreskin before pushing it back with his lips. Bedroom purple eyes swum on my face, I watched totally dazed as, massaging my testicles, he kissed the tip of my cock and pulled back so that only the very point of his soft pink tongue could rub and flick over the exposed head. A choking shudder fluttered in my muscles, I gritted my teeth and made a low, pained sound as he licked slowly and flatly over that one small spot, occasionally dipping down and gliding his lip over fraenulum. It was a new sensation, that one, one that made my eyes close breathily and my back arch in an airy, blissful sort of way. He released me with a pop and thoughtfully, running his knuckle over my thigh, asked "does that feel good?"

I nodded, longing to feel a ghosting gentle kiss there, quite convinced that the action would send me into multiple orgasms. Woman get all the fun… well just wait, I'll show those bitches the meaning of the words 'super orgasmic' yet you see if I don't.

"Hm." His breath buffeted me briefly, before a tentative and precise lick along the one spot wrenched a thoughtless, painfully pleasureful groan from my chest. It was like a butterfly's kiss, so subtle and moreish, inspiring a wild need inside much too big to be justified. He opened his lips and took me right down again, reminding me of how hot the inside of his mouth was, and rolled his tongue over the part of my sinking slowly down his throat. My hands clenched, my feet pointed tightly and I felt the muscles in my thighs lock either side of his head. When he pulled back he reprimanded me for it.

"Are you trying to crush my skull?" there was a string of saliva glistening on his chin. "That fucking hurt." He wiped it aside and combed his hair back off his face.

"Sorry."

"Yah, its okay, we can make it up now." He rubbed two fingers thoughtfully between his legs, and showed them to me when he pulled them out dripping. I had saturated his crotch alright, compared to the neat job he did of me it was kind of disheartening. My legs pulled closed, he sidled up and sat himself in my lap. Of course, my dick was less than happy about being ignored, and was starting to throb impatiently. Sweat had broken out on my shoulders.

"You haven't got some lube have you?" he whispered in my ear almost shyly. "You know, hope springs eternal etcetera…"

"Shut up!" I pushed him backward, but busied myself digging in my drawer to find it anyway. "I will need it one day."

"You need it now." He smiled and took the sample packet of KY jelly my health teacher had given every student in the class a few years back between neat, superior fingers. It had a little tearstrip, which he pulled, before beckoning for my hand and cupping my palm so he could squeeze it onto my fingertips. Like any man, I hurried to smear it on my aching cock, but he caught me with an authoritive grip, empty lube sachet fluttering to the coverlet.

"Idiot, it's for me." He took my wrist and propped himself up, one hand resting on my shoulder. His bare chest, white and smooth, nipples hard, hovered in front of my face as he manoeuvred my hand between his legs. "You have to stretch me out, or it won't fit."

"… I knew that." My voice was high and cracky. Maybe because between his thighs, in the triangle of rich fine skin, was so hot it almost burned. Maybe it was because he was guiding my fingers to touch there, his own hand pressing the lubed caress further and further back into the cleave of his beautiful behind until my heart leapt. The soft dip into which my finger glided was gentle and fluttering with a barley distinguishable heartbeat, it met resistance a little way in, and Matty removed his hand with a soft giggle.

"When you're ready, Al"

Well, it was s dumb statement. I was not ready. I would never be ready. But also, I had never been so ready for anything in my life. I wanted my cock in him _now_, and so to hurry the whole process I applied some pressure, wiggling my finger inside, and trying not to think about it. Because what happens if…

I shook my head and anxiously had a bit of a prod, finding nothing particularly awkward or unpleasant. He didn't even seem to notice, comfortably straddling me, combing his fingers calmly through my hair. I bit my lip and wiggled my finger all the way in. it was nerve racking. Really. But I was pleasantly surprised, for some reason, my boner really liked it. It jerked a little and he noticed, administering a short stroke and kissing the crown of my head.

"You're doing good brother. Add one more finger and then you can come in."

I didn't hesitate. My second finger slipped in fairly easily too alongside the other. I spread the lube around and gave them a little stretch.

"Does it hurt?" I asked curiously. He shrugged.

"Feels like having two fingers up my ass."

"… So it hurts?"

A chuckle, he clutched my head to his chest, inviting me o suck a little on his nipple.

"Not really. Hey, curl your fingers up a bit? Feel around and see if you can find a spot that feels different."

"Feels…?"

"Like… it swells. It's puffy? I dunno how to describe it."

I furrowed my brow and tried making a come hither motion inside him. Nothing particularly odd caught my attention; he sighed in disappointment and knelt up off my hand.

"Okay, that's fine. Is your dick here?"

"Yes!" I leapt and gripped his hips eagerly.

"Put it in me then." He kissed me, and though I disliked my own taste on his lips I kissed him back to avoid any embarrassing noises, before notching the pulsing head of my cock right there and popping slowly in.

"Ah, Alfred do it all at once please!" his fingers gripped my shoulders tight and I sunk my teeth into his neck. Because he was _tight_. Hot and natural and oh my god. My mind flickered a little, short circuiting and rebooting, his smell flooded my senses and his skin milky and smooth beneath my hands seemed to melt. I pulled my mouth from his neck and registered dully that it had probably left a bruise, and then intentionally sealed my lips back to administer a love bite right beside it. Breathy, he pulled on my ear, panting softly and cracking for the first time.

"Alfred, I'm moving now."

"uh-huh…" I helped him lift his hips and pull them back down, where he slid off exposed the hot flesh at the base of my length and when he took it back again I groaned, head snapping back, mind spinning.

"Fuuuck…"

"Lie down." He pushed me down and rocked his hips cautiously. Trembling hands flat on my chest, his hair fell forward and framed his face. I sucked in a breath and tried to relax as steadily, slowly, he began to ride.

At first, it sounded painful for him, but on my part, noting had ever been so wonderful in my life. Every roll of his hips sent waves of hot bliss right up my body, like lying on a beach in summer and letting the tide of warm water lap across your form. My hips lifted and dropped in smooth, repetitive motions, I turned my head to the side and moaned my approval, mouthing his name and taken as taken can be with everything about him from head to toe. My brother. I was fucking my brother, I felt like a filthy gigilo, and I loved it. He was trembling in his stance atop of me, always shifting, looking a little more than uncomfortable. Through blurry eyes I reached for his face, he nuzzled my hand and carried on riding until I arched my back a little, changing the angle on which we were meeting, and his shoulders jolted. A trembling 'oh!' melted from his lips, and I smiled proudly.

"Feel better?"

He nodded, biting back a smile, and made small, snapping movements of his hips over that one spot. It want as good, with my dick not penetrating and withdrawing, the only real friction I got from it at first was my crown rubbing firmly against the exact point he wanted it to, but the honeyed sighs and gasps he made were all worth it. The pooled hotly in my lower tummy and tingled and tickled in my groin. After a while, he grew wilder, a little more confident. This motion was better still, heaving and kissing messily, we found a rhythm of fucking that was fairly precise and tight, undulating neatly and judging by the sounds he made, I was doing a fantastic job. My fingers raked his back, his hands cupped my face, our bodies were wet and his words spilled into my mouth loudly but slurred by lust

"Oh yeah that's good." He sniffed and threw his head back gloriously. "Oh… that's the spot… oh god yes! Yes! Don't stop! more, give me more, harder! Alfred!"

"Fuck Matty." My hands found his ass, I kneaded it roughly, the hot flesh perfectly gripable beneath my fingers "you're a dirty slut! Wait till I tell Gilbert!"

"Tell Gilbert you fucked your brother you sick bastard?" his thumbs stroked my cheeks and that word brother made my heart leap in my chest. But neither of us halted our motion. I kissed up his jaw and he growled in satisfaction.

"Tell Gilbert I fucked my babysitter."

He gave a particularly loud gasp and I brought my hand down smartly on his left butt cheek. Our breathing was short, loud. The neighbours would be hearing us soon, if we didn't end it.

I came when he clamped his lips down on my ear, shuddering and clenching in places I didn't even realise it was possible to orgasm in. not just my crotch, but my thighs, my chest, the back of my neck. Even my palms throbbed with delicious relief, and though it lasted only three or four glorious seconds, it was by far the best orgasm of my life. He keened lowly when my cum flooded inside him, and slowed his riding as I came down, still panting heavily from the effort of release.

"Did you jizz?" I asked him, unsure if the wet on my chest was sweat or semen. He shook his head; his face was so pink it could have passed for a stop sign. I was just about to apologise for my inadequacy, feeling like the worlds biggest tool, when he hopped off me excitedly anyway and threw himself backward to rest against the headboard of my bed. A thick trail of spunk followed him, when he opened his thighs and settled back, my jaw dropped at the mess there. It was all over the inside of his legs and dribbling tiredly from the pink, twitching place I had been in. his hands rubbed down the front of his pubic bone and he spread himself open, head tipping tiredly back, exposing the franticly pulsing vein in his neck.

"Clean me up Alfie." His eyes closed, he looked exhausted, drawn, desperate. "Be a good brother and clean me all up."

Shaking hands, brain still pulsing with floods of pleasure chemicals, I clamped his knee and looked again at what he wanted me to eat out. It was quite neat, actually… neater than I had anticipated a girls to be. He was pale, painted with thick semen that had come out of me. And everything about him exuded that skin tingling scent of body cream.

I had to lie on my stomach to do it, arms hooked up and around his legs, chin pushed out a little uncomfortably. My nose got in the way, but he seemed to like the way it pressed to his testicles. I licked the cum off the triangle of skin between cock and entrance before lapping up the inside of both his thighs in bulk. It wasn't nice, and I had to force myself very hard to swallow the stuff. He squirmed, making soft mews and gasps, and when I had done that I licked my lips, ignoring my flavour and the weird alcoholic bitter of lube.

It was only once I did that that I glanced embarrassed at the last place to be cleaned, from which a trail of sperm was flowing and pooling on the bed, and with more guts than I felt licked at it exploritively, tasting nothing there I hadn't before.

"Ah! Alfred!" his legs stiffened, I privately hoped he wouldn't try and get me back for crushing his head in my crotch earlier and brushed my lips around the area shyly. His breath was too laboured; I hoped he wouldn't pass out. Knowing there was only one way I was going to get any more spunk out of there I pressed my tongue inside and licked, suckling a little, and my mouth flooded with enough cum for me to say a mouthful and pull back.

"Don't swallow!" he chided me, yanking my head and my mouthful of cum to his face. "Here." He parted his lips in an expectant kiss.

It was weird, it was dirty, it was probably going to make me feel sick tomorrow when I wasn't totally turned on and swiftly re-hardening, but for the time being I knew exactly what to do. We transferred the mouthful and he swallowed it all, wiping his lips on the back of his hand.

"There's still m-ORE!"

I was back down there, trying to salvage the last of it with a prodding stroking rubbing tongue, and had to be utterly astonished when the muscles I was licking at quivered around me. When I pulled back it was evident he hadn't quite had an orgasm, but had been so damn close it hurt. A bright idea occurred to me and in the back of my mind I realised that he was poisoning my brain but that was fine. I slipped my tongue inside him once more and licked in tiny little flicks up over his testicles to the base of his cock. He was gasping, his chest heaving, I wished I could have seen his face from that angle because I knew it would have been breathtaking. His little mantra, a string of breathed yeses, was reaching an ecstatic crescendo. With grace I finished him off and swiped up the length of his cock and into my mouth. The salty thick flood that poured in was a lot more than I had expected, I pulled off only to be shot twice more in the face with the same warm splatter. His body writhed, my penis was singing for more sex, and I dragged myself up as he finished with his climax to yank his jaw open before he could resist. Half spitting, half kissing his cheem onto his tongue I stroked his throat to make sure he swallowed and them swallowed myself, breathing heavily. Limply, he pulled a disgusted face, opening his eyes and giving me weak evils. I wiped the mess off my cheek and jacked a few times to get rid of my boner. It was fast and small, hardly an orgasm at all after that first one, and he didn't seem bothered that when he pulled himself up and threw his arms around me, it got his stomach and hip.

"Fucking Alfred." He murmured, kissing my neck damply. I shivered, aware of the cold sweat on my back, and released my dick so I could embrace him back and tumble with him to the mattress. We took a second to get comfortable, sliding and snuggling, until a reasonably appropriate foetus against my chest position was assumed, and silence lapsed into the room until our breathing regulated, the good feeling fading enough for me to realise how sweaty and messy and gross I felt. A good tooth brushing too, wouldn't be inappropriate.

"Alfie." His fingers brushed my chest, his voice soft and sated. "That was fun. We should do things like this together more often."

"Huh?" I frowned, scratching my cheek, and nosing the now soiled fruit smell of his hair.

"This. We should do more stuff like this. We never do stuff together anymore and I wish we did. You're my only friend in the world you know, and I love you."

"I love you too stupid." It didn't even need saying. And yet in the silence of the bedroom, it didn't feel awkward at all. "If you want to spend time with me, just say."

"mm." he looked up and kissed my lips so chastely I wondered for a second if the past half hour had all been a dream. His soft voice, the total lack of aggression… it was as though he was back to gentle, almost invisible sweetheart Matt once more. "alright then. Tomorrow can we go to the park? I can make some muffins or something."

I clicked my tongue. "I'm grounded remember."

"Well yeah, but I wont tell if you don't." he kissed my cheek and laughed lightly. "no-one needs to know what goes on between us."

I knew he wasn't just talking about a trip to the park. After only a brief moment of consideration, I nodded.

"Yeah, you're right."

We showered, finished the pizza and three movies, and when sleep time came around it was a silent agreement that I slipped into bed beside him and we kissed beneath the sheets.

…

DO YOU WANT TO KNOW WHY I WRITE PORN?

Because I have read all the fanfiction and seen all the yaoi relevant to my interests the internet has to offer. How unfortunate. :I

I don't own hetalia.


End file.
